underneath the nightsky
by bluestoplights
Summary: Canon-Divergence from 3.05 / Pan wants a trade - the Captain and the Savior for Henry. It's one they're both willing to make.
**A/N: Friday I decided I really, really just wanted to publish something short just so I could get something out. This is not short. I tried, guys, I really did.**

 **Some explaining of this canon-divergence-ish: Neal is back in Storybrooke, Rumplestiltskin left, and it takes place a day or so after the kiss. I don't know why any of these things are the case, I just know this is what happened when I started writing? The fic itself should explain it, but in case you get confused!**

 **Thank you - as always - to Amber, Steph, and Ella for being amazing and incredible and just generally the best ever.**

-/-

"Fine," Pan acquiesces, a smirk on his lips. "I'll let the boy go."

"You will?" Snow says, her voice pitched high with disbelief.

"I'm in a remarkably giving mood, see," Pan's teeth gleam, eerily, in the moonlight with his smile. "Henry may return to Storybrooke. I won't stop you."

He found them trekking in the forest, trying to get to the next lead on Henry. They'd assumed that he was just there to taunt them, remind them of their failures. Now, it seems he's trying a different tactic.

Emma narrows her eyes. "There's no way it's that easy."

"What are you playing at?" David asks, similarly skeptical.

Regina is the next to chime in. "What, do you get his soul while we get his body?"

Hook just stands there, expression furrowed and swaying with his hand on his sword.

Peter Pan lifts his hands up, a bit defensively. "The distrust is truly hurtful, really. Have I lied to you thus far? Liars never prosper, after all."

"You disguised yourself as Henry, earlier," Emma points out, her mouth in a firm line. "I don't think you'll draw the line of what's wrong and right at lying when you're this much of a fan of kidnapping."

"That wasn't a lie, Emma, I just happened to feel a chill and your son was kind enough to lend me his jacket. After all, it was you all who cheated to find me in the first place," Pan points out, sounding smug. She's never wanted to punch a teenager this badly in her life, discounting high school. "No, no. What I'm asking for in exchange is simple."

"It never is," Hook grits out, as persuaded as everyone else - which is to say, not at all. "What do you want, Pan?"

"I think it's a trade everyone here would readily make, you included, Captain," Pan replies with a broad grin. "I want you and the Savior for Henry."

There's a stunned silence for a beat.

"What-"

"Are you insane?"

"Emma, honey, you can't. We all have to come back together-"

Emma doesn't know what to say, though the reactions of everyone else say a lot to begin with. She'd trade herself in for a heartbeat, easily, for her son. That's not even the question. Trading in Hook alongside her, though, seems unfair. Emma shoots him a look, ignoring the clamor of the people around her, and finds he's already looking at her.

"My, my," Pan grins, excited at the prospect of commotion. "I'm afraid to say I'm only listening to these two, here, after all it is their lives. So what'll it be - you or Henry?"

Emma keeps her eyes fixed on Hook, waiting for a signal. A signal of approval, a signal of disapproval, a sign that he's willing to do this if she is. Her stomach is in knots at the idea of signing him away along with her - he's already come back to this place to help her, she can't ask him for this too - and it leaves a distinctly sour taste in her mouth.

Hook nods silently at her, jaw twitching and stance rigid. Emma exhales shakily, turning to face Pan again.

"Why?" Emma asks finally. "Why us?"

Pan only shrugs. "Ruins the mystery a smidge for me to tell you, don't you think?"

"Emma," Snow's voice is plaintive as she rests her hand on her arm. "Emma, you can't."

She sighs, looking down at her feet. "It's not entirely up to me," her eyes go to Hook. "Why not just me? Me for Henry, that seems like a fair trade."

"Swan, please, I won't leave you alone in this place," Hook protests, finally speaking up. "Just take me for the boy, Pan. I know you'd love to have me back here, doing your bidding."

Pan tuts, unimpressed by both solutions. "I believe I was clear. Both of you or no Henry, hm?"

" _Why?_ " Emma asks, voice disbelieving.

"He's playing games," David says, his voice hard. "We won't leave without both of you. We'll find another way. I'm not leaving without my entire family, Emma."

"We might not have a choice," Regina bites out, finally.

Emma's eyes go to Hook, again, her expression searching. He nods, again, presumably to tell her he's in this if she is.

"We came here to save your boy, Swan," Hook says, finally. "I fully intend to do just that."

-/-

Her parents protest the idea - loudly and ceaselessly - but Emma has already made up her mind. If this is the only way they can make it off the island, then she'll do it. Pan leads them to the camp where he has Henry with a spring in his step, ignoring the squabbling behind him. The Lost Boys they encounter on the way through the forest, thankfully, seem to lay off with their leader leading the pack.

"Emma," Snow tries, yet again. "Emma, we'll find another way. I told David we are all coming back. I don't intend to break that promise."

"Your mother is right, Emma," David adds. "With the dreamshade in my system...I don't know if I even _can_ leave."

"We'll make room on the ship, then," Hook replies, sounding bored. It's masking, that much Emma can tell. The guilt returns in her stomach.

"Fine," Snow sighs, squeezing her eyes shut. "Then Regina can come back to Storybrooke with Henry and we'll stay behind with you until-"

"No," Pan refutes, finally paying attention to the conversation ongoing behind him. "That won't do. Prince Charming, I'm sure Rumplestiltskin can fix you a cure for the dreamshade back in your lovely little town. I know him well enough to know he has some. I'll give you enough time for that," he returns to his faux-philanthropic persona, one that makes Emma's skin itch in discomfort. "Aren't I being so _kind_? I only want the Savior and the Captain, here. You all are to return with the boy."

"Again," Emma grits out, her teeth grinding. "I don't understand why you want us. Didn't you need the Truest Believer, or whatever? I don't think either of us qualify."

"I have other uses for you," Pan shrugs, as if the idea is inconsequential to him.

"And why do you need them to leave?"

"Again," Pan reiterates. "I don't intend on spoiling the mystery. That would be rather unkind of me, wouldn't it? And look at me," he pauses his strides ahead, turning around with his hands in the air as if he's presenting something truly spectacular. "I've turned over a new leaf! Can't go ruining that, now."

"Less talking," Regina grunts. "More finding my son."

"Of course, your majesty," Pan relents, nearly skipping with his satisfaction with himself. "You've got the right idea."

Snow frowns. "Emma, please. Just listen to us. I don't want to leave my daughter here and not," she stops, biting her lip as tears well up in her eyes, "And not know if I'm ever going to see her again."

Emma frowns, taking Snow's hand in hers. "We'll figure something out. In the meantime, I want you guys and Henry out. As long as you're safe, that's what matters."

"Funny," David says on the other side of Emma, sliding his hand in hers. "We feel the same way about you and Henry. I don't want to leave you here, Emma."

Emma squeezes both of their hands, eyes darting on either side of her. "We'll find a way. But right now, I need you guys to be back in Storybrooke where I know you'll be safe. I…" she trails off, steeling her voice. "I have hope I'll be able to get back to you."

They get to the camp before they can say anything further. Once Emma catches a glimpse of Henry, she's off running like a bullet.

"Mom!" Henry exclaims, rushing towards her to give her a full bodied hug. "Mom, what happened?"

Emma clings to him tightly, tearing up with a mixture of relief and sadness as she crumples to her knees with him in her arms. "We're going to get you out, Henry. Pan is letting you leave."

"I am," Pan chimes in, sounding jovial. "Now isn't that nice of me?"

Emma resists the urge to call him a few choice words, electing to lean back and take a look at her son. She skims her hand over his cheek, gently checking him for any injuries. Brown eyes track her movements. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Is everything-"

"I'm fine, mom," he reassures her quickly. "I swear. Are you okay? Is everyone," his eyes flit to the people surrounding them - from her parents to Regina to Killian. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, kid," Emma smiles tightly, stepping back to allow the rest to reunite with him. "Everyone is okay."

Her parents and Regina, respectively, hug Henry, all muttering their thankfulness to have him back and safe. Hook bends down, exaggeratedly, to shake his hand with a _'Good to see you well, Master Mills'_.

"How sweet," Pan quips, as irritating as usual. "It's so lovely to see everyone back together again. Well, for as long as that will last."

Henry frowns, slipping his hand from Hook's to look back at Emma. She tries to give him a reassuring smile, but it falls flat.

"What do you mean?" Henry asks.

Emma wets her lips, trying to find the right way to explain the situation. _'Captain Hook and I are trading ourselves in for you,'_ doesn't seem appropriate.

"Captain Hook and your mother are trading themselves in for you," Pan answers, because of course he does. Emma shuts her eyes and groans.

Henry's eyes go wide. "What?"

"They aren't," Snow reassures him, quickly stepping forward.

"Yes," Emma says, a little curtly. "I am. Hook...that's up to him."

"I already said I would, Swan," he answers with a curt nod. "I meant it. Young Henry has to get home, as do the rest of your family."

Emma accepts this, frowning just a little. She didn't want this. She didn't want to be stuck here, for sure, and didn't want to take another person down with her.

Henry is still noticeably upset. "Mom, you _can't_."

She comes back to his side, again, taking his hands in hers as she kneels in front of him. Hook is still behind him, looking on the exchange with some softness. "Listen to me, Henry. You're going to go home. I'll be behind you, soon, but right now I need you to go with Regina and your grandparents, okay?"

"I don't want to leave without you," he says plaintively, his eyes filling with tears. Emma wipes one away before it can escape.

"Shh," Emma murmurs soothingly, her hand still on his cheek and the other rubbing patterns into his hands. "It'll be okay. I'll be back."

It could be a lie, but she says it nonetheless. She has to give him some degree of hope, a hopeless Henry is a prospect she never wants to confront. He's her believer, she won't have him stop believing on her account.

Henry frowns, retracting his hands from hers. She frowns before he grabs her hand again, pressing something into it from his pocket, then. Her brow furrows, fingers closing over the small circle of metal. By the covert way he passes it on, she's not meant to pass it on. It takes her a minute, but she quickly catches on that it's the mirror she used to talk to him before, to tell him they were coming after him. Emma tucks it into her coat, as discretely as possible.

It's reassuring that she'll at least have this.

"So, Savior," Pan explains, leaning up against a tree. "I'll get your family a portal to their homes, you and the Captain stay. It's as simple as that. I'll open it once we get nearer to Hook's ship, since that's where I'll assume you'll be staying. You won't even have to traverse to the forest alone! I'm being so terribly polite, aren't I?"

He's being terribly obnoxious, is what he's being.

"I'm assuming…" Emma trails off, frowning. "Gold has already left, hasn't he? That's why you said he could make David a cure back in Storybrooke."

"Yup," Pan replies cheerily, rocking back on his heels. "I offered him a deal, too. Gave him a way back if it meant Baelfire wouldn't follow him to Neverland."

"Baelfire," Emma murmurs in disbelief, her jaw dropping. "You mean Neal is alive?"

"You didn't know?" Pan asks, his grin widening impossibly further. "My, my, this is a turn of events."

"Dad is alive?" Henry asks, catching Pan's words. "What?"

"It looks as if you'll get a chance to see him, too," Pan says. "How delightful, a family reunion! I feel positively brimming with goodness with all of the happiness I've brought you all. Perhaps those quaint little stories about me back in the land without magic are really true - after all Tinkerbell and I shall be great friends after I sent her back, too."

"You sent Lady Bell to the land without magic?" Hook asks skeptically. "Why?"

"Again with all the ' _whys_ '," Pan proclaims dramatically, huffing with all the petulance of the teenager he appears to be. "You lot are no fun, you know that? You all want things spelled out for you, no imagination. Adults are no fun, truly, what a saddening existence you have. Your land isn't the only thing without magic."

"I have plenty of magic," Regina retorts, her voice seeping with distaste. "And no problem using it against bratty teenagers."

"Such a literal interpretation of that word," Pan rolls his eyes. "That's exactly what I mean."

"The portal," Emma interrupts, her brow furrowing with suspicion. The fact he sent Tink through it - they've been looking for her for _days_ \- isn't exactly reassuring. "How do I know it's not a trap?"

"Simple," Pan replies. "You trust me."

Everyone scoffs, almost in sync.

"I don't like trusting demons," Hook snarls.

"You expect us to walk through a portal that will lead us to our deaths?" David asks, similarly skeptic.

Pan groans in exasperation. "I'd like to remind you once again that I haven't lied to you. That portal will bring you back home, intact. The Savior can tell if I'm telling the truth, can't she?"

His eyes flit to Emma, then, who tenses.

"Tell them I'm telling the truth, Emma."

He shows no sign of lying, regrettably. "Right now, you are. But that could change."

"There you have it," Pan grins, satisfied. "And my mind won't change, I'm sure of it."

-/-

They end up having to take him at his word. He opens a portal by the shore, the vortex swirling around and around in a way that makes her dizzier the longer she looks at it.

"It'll only be open for five minutes, give or take," Pan announces to the group. "Enough time to say your goodbyes, surely, but be hasty. We're running on a schedule."

"How?" Emma asks skeptically. "Time doesn't pass here."

His face falls, but he masks it quickly. "Doesn't mean we can't be punctual."

Emma's father is the first to approach her, arms crushing around her in a bear hug that nearly steals the breath from her lungs. She sighs, leaning into the embrace and clutching at his arms.

"Emma," her father mutters her name into her hair, clinging tightly to her. He keeps his voice quiet enough so they aren't overheard. "We could take Henry and run, you know, take Hook's ship when Pan's back is turned-"

"No," Emma sighs, wishing that they could. "We both know that wouldn't work."

"Not with that attitude," he deadpans.

Emma laughs, against her better judgement. "I love you, dad."

She sounds so small when she says it, like the little girl she was when she wished for her parents the most. Now she has to tell them to leave her behind with her son in tow. Her heart aches in her chest.

"I love you too, Emma," he manages to reply, hand stroking her hair. "More than you know."

Emma sighs, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. "I don't...I don't want to leave you guys behind."

"I know."

"But I need you guys safe. You'd do the same for me."

She feels wetness seeping into her hair, then, and she knows he's crying. "I know."

Emma stays in his arms for a few moments, swaying. She pulls back, reluctantly, just so she has time to say goodbye to everyone else. Her mother embraces her, fiercely, the second she does.

"Emma," she chokes out, clinging so tightly to her Emma wonders how she's going to be able to extricate herself. "I'm so proud of you and all you've become. You know that, right?"

Emma's voice is thick with her own tears, the kind she can tell are mirrored in her own mother's eyes - the eyes she inherited, and she holds her back just as tightly. "I do."

"I need you to know that."

"We'll find a way out," she reassures her mother. "I promise."

"Emma," Snow exhales, her voice unsteady. "Emma, I want my family back together. Hook was stuck here for two hundreds years before. I want to see you again. Henry deserves to see his mother again."

"I know," Emma murmurs, voice shaky as she leans back to meet her eyes. "I know. But we'll find a way. I'm the Savior, right?"

Emma's voice breaks on the last word. Snow can only nod.

"I'm the Savior," Emma repeats, the words more to reassure her mother than to comfort herself. "I can find a way to get home."

Snow accepts this reluctantly, nodding against Emma's shoulder. "I love you so much, honey."

"I love you too, mom," she echoes, pulling back to look at her. Emma's hand comes up to wipe away her mother's tears, thumb sweeping under her eye.

David's eyes go to Hook, then, who has been standing on the outskirts of the goodbyes a little uncomfortably. "Take care of her, okay?"

"She can take care of herself," Hook reassures him, saying the words before they can leave her mouth.

The corners of David's mouth twitch, a little, and Emma feels like she's missed something - a private joke of sorts. "Yeah," David's arm wraps around her shoulder, pressing one last kiss to her forehead before pulling away to embrace his wife. "She can."

Henry is going to be the hardest part, she already knows. He runs from Regina's hands on his shoulders to embrace her so tightly she's almost worried he's going to suffocate her. If he did, it'd be a fate she'd gladly suffer knowing her son was safe.

"I'm going to come back, kid," she promises, hand curling into his hair. "I promise. I won't leave you alone."

She hopes this a promise she can keep.

"I know," Henry replies, sounding matter-of-fact though he's just as teary as she is.

"I love you so much," Emma tells him, the tears falling in earnest now. "I'm so happy you're okay. I was so worried about you, you have no idea."

"I love you, mom," Henry says. It's painful when he pulls away, Regina gently coaxing him off. "When you get back, we can go to Granny's. Get hot chocolate with cinnamon and onion rings."

"Yeah," Emma nods, a genuine, though watery, grin on her lips. "We can."

"Be careful, you two," Regina instructs carefully, eyeing the two of them as her hands come back to Henry's shoulders. "This island is a hellhole."

"Hey!" Pan cries in offense.

"We will be," Hook replies.

"Don't even think of trying to jump in after them, you two," Pan adds, gesturing to Emma and Hook. "The portal will kill you before it will transport you, I made sure of that. The rest will go through safely, but you won't."

Emma's mouth sets in a hard line. "You got it."

"Leave her alone, Pan," Hook tells him, voice gruff as he crosses his arms. His hook, she notices, is pointed away from him. "You've done enough."

"Me?" Pan asks, voice incredulous. "I think I've been rather kind, truly."

"As you've reminded us," Emma rolls her eyes. "About a million times."

"Emma," Snow calls. "We love you. Stay safe, okay?"

"I will," Emma reassures her, a brittle smile forming on her lips. "I promise."

"And Killian," she adds, using his real name pointedly. "You, too."

He seems surprised by that. "I intend to."

"Keep each other safe," David adds, eyes flitting between the two of them. "I expect to see you two in the near future."

Pan's face stays surprisingly impassive. Emma just nods.

"I'll see you soon, mom," Henry promises, eyes shining.

Emma's eyes water even more. She lifts her hand up, one last pitiful wave. "I'll see you soon, kid. I'll see all of you soon."

They jump before she gets the chance to say anything more, with time almost out.

-/-

She stands there, right where the portal used to be, for a while. Pan leaves, after a while, his parting words just _'We're going to have so much fun together'_. They both ignore him, studiously. Emma stays there, though, her arms wrapped around herself.

Hook stays there with her patiently, only interrupting her silence after about twenty minutes.

"We should get back to my ship," Hook says, finally.

"Yeah," Emma agrees, her voice subdued. "We should."

-/-

They end up back in the crew's quarters, much as they did that first night. A bottle of rum is between them, Emma has that same old small glass.

This time, Neal is alive. She can't even start to think about that one.

This time, they're stuck alone here.

It's a lot to process.

"We're stuck here," Emma sighs, setting down the glass and threading her hands through her hair. "We're stuck here and we can't leave."

"But your son is safe," Hook points out, helpfully. "Your son is home with his family."

"Yeah," Emma nods. "He is. I just...I wish that there was a way we could have gone home together, a way we could have fought. Now, we're just stuck here. Why do you think...why do you think it was us? Why stick us here? Why not just kill us? Do you have any idea?"

"I haven't a clue, Swan," he sighs, his lips pressing together. He taps his ringed hand, absentmindedly, against the bunk. "I just know if he has us here, it's for a reason. He needs us for something, I reckon. As for what that something is…"

He trails off, but Emma can finish his sentences well enough by now. "You _'haven't a clue'_."

"Aye," Hook sighs.

It's silent, for a few moments.

"You should get some rest, Swan," Hook says, breaking the silence between them and moving to stand. "It's late, nearly morning. You had a long day. I suppose tomorrow might be even longer. I'll do my best to make my company pleasant enough to shorten it. We have quite a bit of planning ahead of us if we intend on getting off of this cursed island any time soon."

"Yeah," Emma nods, kicking off her boots slowly. "You're right."

"I washed the sheets," Killian's mouth curves into a slight smile, swooping down to pat the bed she's sitting on. "My crew wasn't the best about hygiene, I'll admit, but this should be free of the evidence of more...odious characters."

Emma's nose wrinkles, at that. "Seriously?"

"I just said I'd washed them, Swan," he says, rolling his eyes. "My crew may not be the cleanliest sort, but I am. The bedding should be fit for a princess, I'd say."

Emma laughs, rolling her eyes. "I've slept on worse, trust me."

"You have, eh?" Hook asks, eyebrows raising in curiousity. "Your world seems littered with beds much less lumpy than the Jolly has to offer."

"For people who can afford them," Emma shrugs, trying to keep her voice light. The last thing she needed was to bring up her temporary homelessness to Captain Hook, but that's a matter for another time. The Bug - for all of its merits - sucked to sleep in.

"Ah," he replies, his voice quiet. There's a bit of understanding there. "Well, I hope this one brings you some comfort."

His hand pats the bed, again, before he moves to stand up fully once more. He blows out the lantern by her bedside, reaching for his accompanying one to light his way back to the deck.

"Thanks," Emma replies. "Have a good night."

"You too," he calls over his shoulder, already moving out the door. "Sweet dreams, Swan."

Emma sighs, shrugging off her coat and sweater once he's out of the room. It's sweltering in Neverland, the jungle climate humid and hot, so she strips off her jeans. Getting settled inside of a ship in a closed off room is a lot less discomforting than trying it in the middle of a jungle. Her bra is too uncomfortable to sleep in. Emma briefly ponders what would happen if Hook barged in, what level of embarrassment that would cause, until she shrugs the thought off. It wouldn't be the first time someone saw her in nothing but her tanktop and underwear. This time, at least, the person interrupting her from sleep is someone she's kissed before.

Or maybe that makes it worse.

Emma slumps down on the bed, wondering when the hell her life got this complicated. Apparently, it was from day one, whether she knew it or not. It's a lot to mull over, a lot to distract her mind from sleep.

But at least she has the satisfaction of knowing her family is home and safe. That should be enough to comfort her.

-/-

The crying still wakes her up, much to her disappointment.

Emma expected, maybe, that the ship would insulate her from the sound. That the walls of the cabin would be enough to shield her from it, the lamentations of those left behind. Emma tries ignoring it, tries going back to sleep.

She fails, after what feels like half an hour of trying.

Emma gets up, finally, reaching blindly for her jeans and planning on putting them on just to walk around the cabin for a bit. Maybe if she went above deck, she could clear her mind. The fresh air could help. When she reaches for her jeans, though, she ends up - stupidly - knocking over the lantern at her bedside. It's so dimly lit, it's hard to see anything. Emma curses, hoping the sound didn't wake up the other occupant of the ship, and quickly uprights the lantern.

The Lost Boys are still crying out, a soundtrack to her sure-to-be-soon mental breakdown. Emma gives up on the jeans, just sitting on the bed and biting her lips to prevent sobs from spilling from her throat. The past week has been so stressful, the prospect of being stuck here with crying boys and evil teenaged masterminds for possibly eternity so daunting it seems to have made her finally reach her breaking point.

She hears a knock at the door, shortly after. Emma doesn't respond, hoping that he'll assume she's sleeping and not to be disturbed. The knocked over lantern could, maybe, pass off as just another thing going bump in the night.

"Swan?" Hook's question filters through the door.

Emma just sits there, teeth pressing her mouth shut and fingers digging into the bed. She's slumped on the bed, still upright with her toes just skimming the wooden floor.

"Swan, is everything alright?"

He opens the door, finally, and it's too late for her to lay back down and mime sleep.

"Emma," he says finally, holding up a lantern with his hook on the door handle. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," she replies quickly. "Sorry if I worried you, I was just…trying to go back to sleep.'

He doesn't comment on her lack of clothing, just kneels in front of her quietly. "I heard commotion, just wanted to be sure everything was alright."

Emma swallows, composing herself enough to get the words out. "Sorry. Knocked over a lantern."

"Ah," Hook nods, eyes flitting over to the object in question. "Pesky things, lanterns are."

Emma manages a laugh, looking down at her bare legs. "Yeah. Sorry to wake you up."

"I was already awake," he adds, voice soft. He's whispering, still, as if afraid to break the gentle silence of the night. "The Lost Boys are a loud lot."

Her eyes come up to meet his, at that, the blue barely visible in the light provided by his lantern. "You hear them, too?"

He smiles at her, soft and a little bittersweet. "Aye. Learned to ignore it as best as I could, I've had centuries of practice, but some nights are louder than others."

"I see," Emma notes. "So...on the beanstalk, when you talked about that lost look in the eyes."

His grin fades, as tenuous as it was. "I see it in the mirror plenty."

Emma considers this, for a beat. "I should go back to sleep."

"Aye," he nods his assent as he stands up. "Of course. Let me know if you need anything further."

"I will," she reassures him.

He tilts his lantern just enough to light the candle back on hers. The light is a small comfort, at least. She feels like a little girl again, needing a nightlight to go back to sleep. "Careful not to knock this one over, love. My ship is a marvel, surely, but even enchanted wood is flammable."

Emma manages a grin, at this. "Got it."

"My door is always open," he reminds her. "Always."

"Thanks."

Hook leaves before she can say anything further.

Emma can still hear the Lost Boys when he leaves. She slumps back against the pillows with a sigh, tugging the sheet back over her. She wishes they had headphones in Neverland. Maybe then she could at least block out the crying.

-/-

Emma decides she's going to try to talk to her family the next morning. The sun is shining through the windows of the cabin, filtering in beams of light - as cloudy as it is - and illuminating the room enough that she can find her coat next to the bed without too much of a fuss. The mirror tucked inside of it is a reassuring sight. Hopefully, they're awake whenever they are.

She tugs on her clothes, heading back above deck.

"Hook?"

"Over here, love," he greets her, sitting on a seat on deck, holding a coconut in his hand. He sets it back down once he spots her. "Good morning to you."

"I think…" Emma sighs, taking a deep breath. "I think I'm going to try to talk to my family."

"Oh?" he asks, quizzically. "I hope you don't mind me asking but...how exactly do you envision doing that?"

Emma tugs the mirror out of her pocket. "This."

"And this is…" he trails off.

"I'll show you," she tells him, moving to sit beside him. She holds the mirror up carefully. It's cracked, still, Henry must have thrown it. But she's determined enough, maybe with her magic she can…

Emma concentrates, trying to think of the mirror fixed. Henry gave it to her hoping she'd use it, he had to.

"Your magic," Hook suggests, once he gets the point that she's growing frustrated with herself and her inability to accomplish this stupid, simple task. "You're having trouble with it?"

Emma groans, slumping. She brings the mirror down to her lap. "I thought I could fix it. Henry must have, too, if he gave it to me."

"And this is the means you used to communicate with him, hm?" Hook fills in the blanks, gesturing to the object in her hands. "While David and I were finding the water for his dreamshade poisoning."

That's another reminder of why it's so important that she gets this mirror to work - she has to make sure her father is okay. "Yeah," she exhales. "It's just...this isn't easy for me. The magic thing."

"I understand," he murmurs quietly, patiently. He puts his hand over hers, closing around the mirror. "You can do this, Swan. You just need to stop getting angry with yourself."

"Easier said than done," Emma snorts.

"Perhaps," he shrugs. "But a fact nonetheless. You can do this, Emma. You just have to be kinder to yourself, believe in yourself."

It's something her parents would tell her.

She sighs heavily.

"How's this," Hook suggests, sitting a little straighter. "I'm hardly a magical expert, but I'm willing to venture I've learned enough about you during our time together that perhaps I may be able to be of assistance to you. Imagine your son in that mirror, imagine his face. Imagine your parents, safe and sound and happy. Think of them, think of how much you want to see them."

"Compared to what I've been doing?" Emma asks dryly.

Hook sighs, turning the cracked side of the mirror over in her hand with his. It rests on top of her palm, his hand carefully surrounding it. "Close your eyes, love."

"Why-"

"Just close them," he groans. "Trust me, will you?"

It's a heavy request. She nearly tells him as much. Hook's eyes are patient on hers, though, and his mouth is curved into a small smile. He must have some degree of faith in her to do this, she supposes.

Emma closes her eyes.

"Think of your Henry," he instructs, accent sliding over the syllables easily in her ear. His voice is even more distinct, more comforting with her eyes closed. "Of his favorite things, of how much he'd like to see you. Think of the way his face would light up as soon as he saw yours in this mirror. Think of the hot chocolate and cinnamon, was it?"

He must have eavesdropped. Hook made a bad habit of that, but she can't find herself begrudging that.

"Just think of that, Swan. Nothing else. Just your son."

Emma does, letting those thoughts simmer. She thinks of Henry, thinks of her last promise to him, thinks of the walkie talkies and cocoa and the small, playground castle. The way his eyes glow whenever ice cream is mentioned and how much he loves reading and stories and the endless faith he seems to have in everyone and everything.

She swears she hears her son's voice.

"Mom!"

Hook's deep chuckle fills the air. She cracks her eyes open, one at a time, too scared of being wrong. Hook is beaming at her, though, and he gently takes the mirror from her hand. It doesn't have a scratch on it, but it does have Henry - clear as day - on the glass.

"Hello, lad," Hook grins, holding the mirror up so that they're both in the shot of it. "Your mother wanted to check in on you."

It's the world's weirdest Skype call.

"Mom!" Henry exclaims through the mirror, his excited face clear on the glass. Her parents, it looks like, are squashed into the frame on either side of his shoulders. "Mom, it's me! And Hook, hey!"

"Henry," Emma exhales, her eyes watering. "You're safe."

"Everyone's safe," Snow's voice reassures her, craning her neck to see her just a bit better. "Pan was right, Gold gave David the cure."

"I'm healthy as a horse," David reassures her. "I swear. We're all at the loft, safe. Henry has been trying to use this mirror for the past two hours, we didn't know if it would work. We were about ready to give up when, well…" he gestures to her.

"We're safe here, as well," Hook reassures them. "We just went back to my ship after you left, got some rest. Emma just woke up."

"Does Neverland have timezones?" Henry asks, curiously.

Emma's head hurts at the prospect. "Is Storybrooke okay?"

"Storybrooke is fine," David assures her. "And, um, we saw Neal when we got back. He was the one that convinced Gold to help me out."

"Yeah," Henry nods. "There was a weird, _'we thought you were dead'_ moment, but it's all okay now. I'm happy he's back."

"That's good," Emma manages to get out. "I'm glad everyone is okay."

"We should do this every day until you get back," Henry says finally. "Just so we can all know everything is okay."

Emma grins. "I like that idea."

"You do?"

"I love it," she assures him, aching with how much she misses them.

It hasn't even been a day and she's clamoring to have them back beside her. But they're safe, after all, and that's what matters.

-/-

They're back drinking in the crew's quarters - her quarters, now - that night. It's almost tradition, now, if three times makes a pattern.

This time, they don't bother with the glass for her. They just pass the bottle of rum around.

"How do you deal with this?" Emma asks, grimacing slightly at the burn of the alcohol down her throat. "The creepy island? The weird teenager? At least with you I have someone else to deal with this with - I guess you had your crew, but still - I can't imagine coping with this for centuries."

"I suppose…" he trails off thoughtfully, sighing. "I suppose I'm just used to being alone."

"Oh," Emma murmurs, her mouth parting in understanding. "Yeah. Me too."

Hook's eyes raise to meet her quizzically. "Before your parents and your son found you, I presume."

Emma exhales, taking another swig of the rum. "Yeah. Not a lot of friends - not any, most the time - a few boyfriends. Well, less boyfriends, more," she gesticulates with her hand, waving the men off in the air, "not-boyfriends."

"Oh," he murmurs in understanding, setting the glass down on the wood at his feet. "I've experience with that, as well."

"Boyfriends?" she asks, eyebrow creeping up in interest.

"Loneliness," Hook answers, smile a little tight. "I have experience in loneliness."

It's an odd bonding experience with a man she kissed then ran away from just days prior.

-/-

She does manage to sleep for a little while, even with the world's most depressing soundtrack playing in the background. That sleep, however, isn't pleasant. It's all dreams of Henry getting stuck, Henry being alone, Henry feeling as lost as she felt when she was a kid. That crippling loneliness and desolation seeps into her bones and it hurts when she wakes up, hand pressed against her chest as if that will help matters.

Emma sighs, shutting her eyes as she sits up.

She can still hear the cries.

Emma can't deal with this.

She pads over to Hook's cabin, tugging on her jeans before she knocks on his cabin door. He should be asleep. He probably is asleep and it was stupid of her to bother him, but the acute feeling of being alone presses on her at all sides. Emma needs something and she thinks that maybe, maybe he'd understand.

"Come in," his voice calls.

Emma opens the door, reluctantly, cringing as it creaks.

"Nightmares?" Hook asks, rolling over to face her.

Emma nods, a little unsteadily. She lingers in the doorway, taking deep breaths to calm herself. "I'm sorry."

Hook shakes his head, standing up and walking until he's right beside her. "Nothing to be sorry about, Swan. The Lost Boys again, I presume?"

Emma grimaces, her hand coming up to rest against her forehead. "Yeah. The crying must have filtered into my subconscious, I guess. All I could see was Henry, lost and suffering and crying right along with them."

"Ah," he notes quietly. "I can see how that'd be difficult for you."

"How do you deal with it?" Emma asks abruptly, her eyes flitting up to his. "The crying? You said - you said you heard it too. No one's that deep of a sleeper."

He gives her a tight smile. "I suppose I'm used to running on very little sleep."

Emma considers that, for a moment, frowning as she mulls that over.

"Come to bed, Swan," he instructs carefully, setting a hand on her back.

Emma looks up at him, a little surprised by the instruction. She frowns. "Hook…"

He rolls his eyes. "I'll be a perfect gentlemen, I swear it. I'll not touch you unless you give me instructions otherwise. You need the rest, Swan."

Emma lets him lead her to the bed, his hand sliding in hers. His bed is small, just a little bunk really, so that means they'll have to be pressed close together. There's no avoiding him, like this.

Hook is the first to lie down, letting go of her and propping his hand - she idly notices the hook on the nightstand - under his head after he gestures for her to lie beside him. Emma relents, slowly lowerng herself down to the bed. He curls his arm around her, tucking her closer to him so she won't fall off the bed, and she sighs.

"Thank you," she murmurs.

His hand slides up and down her spine. "Don't worry about it, Swan. I know how this island can play tricks on the mind. You're right, it's easier to manage these things together."

They lie in silence, for a few moments. Emma still can't sleep.

"What if," she sighs, closing her eyes shut before she can finish the sentence. "Nevermind."

He frowns, tilting his head up to look down at her. "What if what, love?"

"You spent centuries here," Emma points out, her mouth locked in a frown.

"Aye," he agrees.

"What if I...what if I do too?" she asks, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. "What if by the time we find a way out, there's no one to come back to? What if my parents are long dead and Henry has already had great-great-grandchildren and my family has had to live their entire lives without me? How are people going to," Emma fumbles with her words, trying to compose herself enough to think through this scenario. "How am _I_ going to deal with that?"

"Simple," he replies. "You won't be stuck here and we'll find a way out. It's as I told you, Swan. I've yet to see you fail."

She smiles at him, at the faith she can see in his eyes even in the dim moonlight filtering through his window.

"Thank you."

"For stating facts? You're giving me far more credit than I deserve."

"Thank you for being here," she sighs, her head nudging into his shoulder and her hand resting on his chest. "For agreeing to stay here with me for Henry. For going after Henry in the first place. I can't think of...I can't think of many people who would do the same in your position."

"I'd do it again," he promises, his hand tightening at her back.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Emma admits.

His head leans down until their faces are only inches apart, his expression soft and maybe, maybe a little bit longing. "Emma…"

"Hook," Emma sighs, lifting her head up and running her nose against his in a sleepy, affectionate gesture. "Killian."

He inhales sharply at that, noticeably affected by her use of his name, his real name. Killian swallows, gently pressing her back down to his chest with his hand at her spine."Get some rest, Swan."

-/-

After that night, she retreats.

She's a little more hesitant about meeting his eyes, she doesn't return to his cabin when her nightmares return, she keeps her distance as much as she can. Sure, she'll help him fish and offer her hand at the sails when the occasion calls for it.

But as far as offers for drinks go, they're usually declined.

She busies herself with ship duties - she asks for anything, anything at all for Hook to have her do and he relents, the limits of their latest interactions - and that's enough. Emma needs to preoccupy her mind, fill in the blanks between the conversations she gets with her family through that mirror.

Emma has revealed too much, shown too much of herself. That night, cuddled up against him, was a mistake. Even if they're stuck here, it's not wise for her to do that. It wouldn't be right, to start anything when they're stuck.

It wouldn't be fair to him, to promise him something she can't give. She's learned enough about love and leaving over the past few years that a relationship for the Savior isn't in the cards for her. Even if it was, starting one with Captain Hook of all people wouldn't be wise.

If anyone would leave, it'd be Hook with all his roguishness and he's bound to get restless. He wouldn't be able to stay in one place for long, always yearning for the next adventure. Her place is in Storybrooke.

(Except he stayed in his own personal hell to help her, ensure her family a safe return, and that assertion isn't exactly fair. But it's only that assertion that's keeping her safe, right now.)

So, she does what she does best. She can't run away, not when she's on an island from hell and he's her last lifejacket. Emma can, however, avoid with the best.

So she does.

-/-

The tension builds over the next few days. Hook - initially patient - grows a little impatient with her short replies and her muted attitude. She's quiet and a little sullen, at loss for what else to do.

It's difficult, ridiculously difficult, to keep her distance in such close quarters.

He doesn't snap at her, at first, not really. It's always carefully guarded, slightly hurt looks when she turns away from him, spurs his attempt at conversation ("Wonderful day we're having, isn't it?" is a pitiful attempt at small talk when the sky is dark and dreary, but she isn't helping with a sarcastic " _Sure_.") and his invitations to take her sailing further out in Neverland waters. He insists he knows where the mermaids like to gather, that he can avoid those spots and show her a lovely view of the greenery, but she tells him that she'd rather be close to the island if anything happens.

What _'anything'_ is, she doesn't detail. Emma doesn't know, to be honest, but it seemed like a good excuse at the time.

At first, it was just, _"Of course, Swan. Whatever you're comfortable with."_

But the skies keep on getting darker and their demeanor, in turn, keeps on getting more and more tense.

As her replies get more and more curt - to the point her mother keeps asking her what's on her mind every time they talk and Emma changes the subject - his responses start to mirror hers.

 _("We need more rope from the island,"_ is met with a mocking bow on his part, not at all sincere.)

The last straw is when a storm comes to the island, rocking the ship harshly enough that it wakes both of them. Emma rushes on deck to find him already at the wheel, desperately attempting to turn the ship back into place.

"What the hell?" Emma cries. "Why are we out in the water? I thought we were docked!"

"I haven't a bloody clue," Hook responds, grimacing. "I woke up and found my ship in the middle of the damn waters, thanks to this storm."

"Aren't we anchored down?" she asks incredulously. "How could you let this happen?"

"How could I let this happen?" he parrots in disbelief, his voice offended. "What is the matter with you? Of course you turn this into my damn fault, curse me for wanting to help you. Let me guess, Captain Hook is trying to ruin your poor day as he always does? Damn near sinking his own damn ship and causing storms in the process?"

Emma is sleep deprived and frustrated and angry. His attitude isn't helping matters. "That's not what I said," she retorts defensively.

"If I can control the bloody weather, Zeus himself must be envious," he snarls. "Incredibly, if I had that much power we'd be off that damn island."

Emma's face turns into a scowl. "Are you serious right now? Are you trying to start a fight with me when," she grabs a hold of the wheel when it nearly spins out of his hook, then, "this stupid fucking island is trying to kill us?"

"I don't need your help," he says, his jaw clenching. The water is pouring down over them in what feels like buckets, drenching them and sloshing around the deck. "Believe me, I've done just fine without it so far."

"Yeah, because your ship venturing out into the deep blue fucking sea and nearly drowning us with it is 'doing just fine'."

"Do you usually use this much foul language when you're angry, or is this reserved just for me?"

"Am I offending your delicate sensibilities, Hook?"

"Mostly I'm just stunned I'm worthy of being talked to at all. Lately, I haven't been sure I've been worthy of such interaction. I should swoon," Hook scowls, turning the wheel in the opposite direction to right the ship. Emma's hands follow, stubbornly insistent on at least keeping the damn thing afloat. "After all, I get to bask in the Savior's _presence_."

"You seemed to do plenty of swooning when I kissed you," Emma manages, too angry to think out what she's saying clearly. The ship keeps getting more and more unsteady, taking her temperament with it.

"Why, love, if you want to kiss me again all you need to do is ask. No need for skirting around the subject."

This just infuriates her more.

She knows that the island is messing with her head, that it's making her act like this. It's the storm and it's her - a mutually parasitic relationship that's causing her to be this angry, in turn causing the storm to get worse and worse. Still, it's like the cracks of light in the sky and way her feet skid on the wet deck and smell of ozone are feeding into this anger, feeding into this desperation, feeding into this panic. It's the same thing that led to everyone fighting each other on the first night, feeding off of the negative energy.

She knows all this, consciously, but she's also _really fucking angry._

Emma tries taking a few deep, calming breaths - trying to right her emotions and her composure. It's the storm, this much she can realize. The storm is born out of feelings that have been simmering for days, but if she wants it to stop she needs to calm down.

"What are you going to do?" he bites back, scowling as he turns the wheel sharply. "Jump off the bloody deck again?"

"Right now," Emma grits out, trying to push the wheel enough to steady the stupid damn boat he loves so much. "I'm tempted to push you off."

"Why don't you then?" he proposes dramatically, lifting his hand and hook from the wheel to put them up in the air. Emma grapples to make up the slack for his absence, trying to spin the wheel back to the right place. "You seem to hate me well enough. Was that kiss just a distraction from the task at hand? Because I have to tell you, love, if you're looking for a distraction now I'm afraid you're out of luck. It was a one time thing, after all."

She tries to remember she doesn't hate him, as pissed off as she is.

"I don't hate you, Hook," she mutters, her rain slicked shirt clinging to her back and the water making the wheel slippery to cling onto. "And it wasn't a distraction."

"What was it, then?" he asks, nearly shouts it over the thunder that's getting louder and louder.

"I don't know," she cries out. Truthfully, she really doesn't.

It felt good. It felt like the right thing to do at the moment. It felt like she was stupidly, stupidly attracted to him and scared at the damage he could do to her if she let him.

"I think it's time you stop being afraid," he shouts, finally. "Stop pushing your feelings down, Swan, whatever they may be. Just because one man left you doesn't mean they all will."

"Are you really bringing Neal into this, right now?"

"I suppose once we get back you'll want to be reunited with him, he's Henry's father after all. If you wanted that, you could have told me instead of ignoring me. I would have followed your wishes."

"You think this is about _Neal?_!" She turns to face him, expression incredulous. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

He gapes. "Then what the bloody hell is this about?"

She kisses him, desperate to find another way to shut him up before they fight and make the storm rage any further. He stills against her, caught off guard, before wrapping his arms tightly around her and kissing her back passionately. His hand comes up to rest on her face, his fingers on her cheeks and his thumb on the dent of her chin, pulling her mouth open against his. Hook slides his tongue inside her mouth readily and she moans, grasping to him tighter.

It's still pouring down rain, but the thunder seems to have quieted and the ship doesn't turn over when they leave the wheel. The sound of waves crashing, though, could easily be the rushing in her ears. Emma clings tighter to his lapel, her forehead still pressed against his. She looks up at him underneath her eyelashes, where his eyes are a small distance from hers. The way he looks at her burns, the heat and the wanting in his gaze overwhelming.

"You better find another anchor," she gasps out, finally.

He does, at a pace that's frankly impressive.

-/-

They don't stop kissing, even as the storm rages on. It's crackling with a different sort of energy, now, lightning and static rather than rumbling and thunder. Emma wraps her legs around his hips when he pins her to the mast, her rain slicked hair sticking to her face. His wet hair feels silky in her fingers, difficult to hold onto. Emma moans against his lips as he trails his mouth down from her mouth, gliding his tongue over raindrops on her skin.

Emma drapes a leg over his hips, her back still pinned as she grinds against him. Hook sucks patterns into the skin of her neck, leaving marks as his hand skims up and down her ribcage. It ventures under her shirt, finding cool skin and making her hiss against him.

"Your cabin," she says, finally, "now."

"As you wish," he replies readily as she locks her arms around his neck and both legs around his hips.

It's a bit of awkward maneuvering to get them both down the stairs like this, with her being held up by his hand and him licking and sucking along her neck. They manage, though, and her legs only slide back down once they get back to the cabin. Emma eyes the bed in the cabin, setting a hand on his mostly bare chest - he still never buttons his damn shirts - and walking him backwards until his knees hit the bed.

They're getting his sheets all wet, still soaked in rain, but she doesn't think he'll care.

She moves to sit astride him, kissing him and grounding down on him through her jeans and his leathers. It's surprisingly slow and steady, the rhythm she picks up is. Emma doesn't know how things went from wanting to kill each other, to wanting to fuck each others' brains out, to this, but it's a phenomenon she finds herself unwilling to question. Emma slides off of him, barely parting her lips from his in the process, and he groans.

She gestures for him to scoot up in the bed, so at least they won't be half hanging off of the damn thing when they do this.

Hook relents to her unsaid demand, propping himself up on the pillows exaggeratedly.

Emma scoffs affectionately, rolling her eyes. He grins.

They find a way to communicate for this without words, surprisingly. With the backdrop of the storm outside, it's hard to find themselves willing to break the silence when the air is crackling - with static and electricity and lightning. Emma and Killian find their way just fine, regardless. Everything they need to say they can say with touches, with looks.

Emma peels off her rain soaked tanktop slowly, depositing it somewhere beside the bed. Killian wastes no time in sitting up and laving the skin he finds along her collar, trailing his lips down to her chest. He presses kisses along the border of her bra until she snakes her arms around to unclasp it and peels it off. He noses along the swell of her breasts before sucking her nipple into his mouth, bringing his hand up to her other breast to mimic the action with his fingers - pinching and rubbing and stroking.

Emma's fingers embed themselves in his hair, her denim-clad center pressing against him.

She realizes something just as he's trailing his lips to her other breast, cursing as she backs up off of him.

Hook looks up at her in surprise and a little bit of hurt. "What's wrong, love? If you changed your mind, I understand-"

Emma shakes her head quickly. Safe sex is a buzzkill, but, as she's learned, a necessary one. Her hand digs into the back of her pocket, a last ditch effort. Much to her surprise, she finds a small foil packet.

She swears she's never been this lucky in her life.

Hook stays sprawled out on the bed, his shirt off and his cock straining - clearly - in his pants. She tears the foil packet open, moving to the bed to prop her legs on either side of him with the condom in hand.

"Prevents, um," Emma coughs, trying not to kill the mood.

She's so wet and aching it might be impossible, at this point, especially given the way he looks up at her. His lips are parted, his eyes only show a thin ring of their usual blue, and he feels thick and ready between her thighs.

"Prevents any consequences," she settles for, finally, waving the condom a little.

He chuckles, a little, at that. "I'm vaguely familiar. I don't suppose you could," he gestures to where his erection lies between her thighs, "help me become situated, could you?"

Emma tugs the pants off, slowly revealing him to her, with an almost feral grin. It shouldn't be any surprise he isn't wearing any underwear, given how tight the damn pants are.

He's hard and thick and heavy when she slides the condom over him, grinding a little against his thigh in anticipation.

"Excited, Swan?" he asks, a knowing grin on his lips.

"You seem to be," she notes, giving him a firm tug once he's fully encased in the latex. He moans, biting his lip in a way that's nothing short of sinful.

"For you?" he manages, voice low. "Always."

A small smile blossoms on her face, at this. Her hand comes down to the button of her jeans before his stops her, undoing the button with his own fingers. She groans, removing her hand and letting him do the rest. Killian slowly slides down the zipper, revealing just a small patch of lace, before he slides his hand under the jeans, under her underwear, and slides his fingers along her folds. She lets out a small gasp of surprise which gives way to moans as he finds her clit, running his fingers over it over and over again.

"Fuck," she moans, rocking against his fingers as they slide over her folds. "Fuck, Hook. Just let me take my clothes off and we can do this, okay?"

Hook grins, a lazy smile that makes his dimples prominent and his eyes soft. He withdraws his hand from her pants slowly, sucking his fingers into his mouth almost immediately. His eyes are heavy lidded and attached to hers the entire time.

Emma can't stop thinking about how much she'd very, very much like to ride his face at the moment. But that's a matter for another time.

She sheds her jeans and underwear quickly, kissing him heatedly as she takes his cock in her hand to line him up at her entrance. Emma's so wet, so ready that she could almost explode. If he doesn't get inside of her soon, she might.

"Gods, Swan," he rasps into her ear. "Make me yours already, would you?"

She slides down onto his cock in one easy glide, though his girth presses up against her in a way that nearly burns. Thunder sounds, but all she can think about is this.

He brings his forehead down to rest against hers as he rocks against her, groaning as she rolls her hips against his. Hook finds his rhythm underneath his back, each tilt of the ship met with another slow, deep thrust. Emma can only pant, curling her fingers into his back with a contented sigh.

"Fuck," Emma murmurs, spreading her legs further to accommodate him. "That feels so good."

"Aye," he rasps, the sound choked. "You feel bloody incredible, love, just like this."

Hook wraps his arm over the width of Emma's back, pulling her closer as he continues hitting that spot. She slides carefully against him, lifting herself up and down on him, panting and moaning and both of their bodies slick with sweat.

"Let me hear you, love."

He thrusts up again, his hand coming down to rub against her clit as his other arm presses her chest against his, and all she can do is cling to him and moan.

It feels amazing, like this. He feels good, just taking his time. Like waves lapping on the shore, she builds and builds and builds. His hips roll in slow circles against hers, varying the angle of his thrusts with a steady intensity. The only sound between them is the faint rumbling of thunder and their moans and pants and sighs. Emma gasps, making a strangled sound when Hook reaches a particular spot inside of her. Killian seems to take careful note of this, stilling underneath her before lifting his hips up in just the same direction.

"Killian," she rasps out his name like a hymn. "Killian, fuck, I needed this."

His reaction is noticeably positive at the sound of his name, his real name, on her lips. His fingers rub faster against her clit and he hits that spot over and over and over again until all she can do is rasp his name out. He presses his lips against hers, open mouthed and wet, swallowing her cries before they can leave her throat. She shatters in his arms, toes curling and body arching.

It only takes a few more strokes instead of her, her lifting herself up and down through the waves of pleasure, for him to come right down with her. He jerks against her unsteadily, rasping out her name and muttering how wonderful she feels, how good she is, how beautiful she is.

Emma just clutches him to her tighter.

"That was…" she gasps out, once she's caught her breath at least somewhat.

"If you say one time thing, this storm is going to start all bloody over again and we'll just have to relive all this, won't we?"

Emma laughs against his lips, leaning down to kiss him again.

-/-

"We need to figure out how to get out of here," Emma says the next morning, tracing patterns into his chest.

He props his head up on the pillows, eyes bleary. "Have you grown that tired of my company already?"

The words are meant to be teasing, but she can read what's underlying there easily enough. She rolls her eyes. "No, but...I miss my family. Weird FaceTiming can't make up for that. And we can't be stuck here forever."

Killian presses a kiss into her hair. "Sounds fair to me, love. We'll come up with a plan"

-/-

It's astupid plan, all things considered. They manage to find Neal's old coconut shell of shadow trapping, nearly killing themselves in the process of _doing_ the titular shadow trapping.

(The shadow, at some point, had Killian pinned to a tree and was in the middle of very forcefully dragging his shadow from his body before her magic finally decided to cooperate with her. It was as if it was saying 'Fine, Emma, I'll work when you scare the shit out of me, but only then'.)

(Lighting a candle in a coconut shouldn't be that fucking hard, but what can you do?)

(The shadow, eerily enough, sounds kind of like Marilyn Manson. She curses her high school emo rock phase, she really does.)

They're in the middle of figuring out how to get the shadow in the sails of the Jolly to take them out of here forever when they're interrupted.

"I feel rather betrayed, at the moment," Pan pouts, appearing suddenly behind him.

Emma's hands tighten around the shell in her hands. "How did you-"

"Did you honestly believe I wouldn't miss my own _shadow_?"

It was a fair statement. Emma frowns.

"What the bloody hell do you want with us here, Pan?" Hook asks finally, a scowl on his face. "What do you get out of this? You're missing the Truest Believer and have left us alone while we've been here."

"Yes, I've left you alone!" Pan cries. "And this is how you repay me!"

"Why do you need us here?" Emma asks incredulously. "You let everyone leave but us. Why?"

Pan sits down on the deck dramatically, a sulking post fit for a sullen teenager. "I need Neverland to thrive, Emma. Don't you understand that?"

"We're hardly planting trees," Emma notes caustically. "What's your point?"

"Perhaps I like the company."

"If you liked company, you would have kept Henry," Emma replies. "He's a hell of a lot more personable than either of us. Tell us why or you'll never see your shadow again."

"And you think you can threaten me?" Pan asks incredulously. "Kindness truly does get you nowhere at all, this just proves it. Maybe it's best if I go back to being an insufferable git."

"Go back to?" Hook parrots. "That implies you've quit."

"You mentioned needing Neverland," Emma says, holding the shell encased shadow tighter in her grip. "Why are we involved?"

"The Savior's magic," Pan says finally, making a sweeping motion with his hand. "It can heal so much, that light magic can. Why, just being around it and you start to notice things. The sun shines a little brighter, the grass gets a little greener, Neverland's magic perks itself right back up again."

"So, what?" Emma asks, her eyebrows raising. "Keeping me around helps the ecosystem? If that were true, I'd doubt we'd have all the environmental problems we do back in my world."

"It helps the magic," he explains plainly. "Your magic helps my magic thrive. Neverland needs you, Emma Swan."

Emma scoffs in disbelief.

"And me?" Killian questions. "Why the bloody hell do you need me?"

Pan shrugs. "I needed someone to protect the Savior from harm, of course. Who better than the man who is desperately in love with her?"

Killian stiffens. Emma resolves not to look at him.

"So what?" Emma asks, raising her eyebrows. "You kept me here to use my magic?"

Peter makes a sour face, at this. " _'Use'_ is such a negative word, Emma."

"It's an accurate one," Emma says curtly.

"Your magic will take quite a while to drain completely, you'll be giving us a few more centuries-"

"She isn't staying here another bloody day," Killian hisses out. "Let alone another century, you sniveling bastard."

Emma blinks, absorbing the information. "My powers drain and Neverland gets stronger, huh?"

Pan lurches for her, for the shadow she holds in her palms, and maybe it says something that she's able to cast him clear overboard with a swipe of her hand in the air. He lands with a splash in the water.

Her magic must have not gotten damaged too badly, then. Emma frowns, setting the hand back on the shell.

Killian looks at her with something like awe.

"I don't know how the hell that even happened, so don't even ask," Emma sighs.

A grin forms on his face. "Understood," he gestures to the shell in her hands. "Shall we set sail, then?"

"You get the flame ready and we'll be ready to go."

"As you wish, m'lady."

-/-

The Jolly Roger barely gets a chance to dock before her family is rushing on board. They apparently spotted the ship before it even got near the shore and her parents' arms are around her right as Killian lowers the ramp to let her get offboard.

"You're safe," David exhales, his hand knotted in her hair. "We were so worried, when we didn't hear from you this morning we thought that maybe-"

"We were busy finding a way out," Emma replies, tightening her arms around the both of them. She can hear Henry's voice, presumably talking to Killian, and swears she even hears a masculine 'oof' and the rustling of leater. Emma wonders if Henry has hugged him in all his relief.

"You got my mom back," she hears, and maybe that answers that question.

"No, lad, your mother got herself back. I was just fortunate enough to be along for the trip."

Her mother's voice interrupts her eavesdropping. "We were so worried, we're so glad that you're back."

Emma leans back to look at the both of them, her hand coming up to wipe a stray tear away. "Yeah. Me too. Everyone is safe, everyone is home, everyone is in one piece."

She only steps back from her parents to greet her son, who lights up as soon as her eyes meet his.

"Henry!" she exclaims, embracing him tightly. She presses a kiss into his dark hair, burying her head in his shoulder. "You're okay."

"I feel like I should be the one saying that to you," he replies playfully, his smile noticeable just in his voice.

Emma laughs, clutching him tighter to her. "I guess you're right."

"How did you get free? How did you get off the island? Did you defeat Peter Pan?"

"I'll explain it later, I promise," Emma leans back to look at him, ruffling his hair. "Right now, I just want to see my son in one piece. I'm soaking in the sight."

He rolls his eyes, but smiles nonetheless.

"Have you gotten taller?" her voice sounds wondrous, trying to fill in the gaps of their time separated. It was a short period of time, all things considered, but without him it felt so _long_. "I feel like you've gotten taller."

"Mom, it's only been a week," he protests. "Seven days since I was last in Neverland."

"I told you I'd come back," she grins, pressing her forehead against his. "Didn't I?"

It's a promise she can say she kept to her son. He hugs her again and her eyes flit up to meet Killian's over Henry's shoulder, a grateful smile on her lips.

He grins back.

-/-

She finds Hook near Granny's later, once the Charmings have finished with their patented _'Welcome Home!'_ party at the diner. One of the people being welcomed, though, didn't show.

Well, at least not inside.

For someone so seemingly cocky, he must hate attention drawn to himself more than anything. Hook just looks lost, in his long coat and with his small frown. He's leaning against a brick wall, looking thoughtfully at his surroundings.

"Killian!" she calls.

His eyes snap to her immediately. He stands straighter, getting up off the wall. "Emma."

"You didn't show," Emma points out, gesturing to the diner. "We invited you to come, you know."

"I didn't want to intrude," he explains quickly, his hand coming up to scratch behind his ear. "Didn't suppose it'd be good manners."

"And since when do you care about good manners?" she grins.

"I'm always a gentlemen."

"Right," Emma nods, stilling in front of him. She clears her throat, thinking through what to say next. "I wish you would have come, you know."

"You do?" Killian asks, sounding sincerely surprised. "My apologies, then."

Emma slides her hand in his before he gets the chance to say much else, twining his fingers with hers. She tugs at his hand, motioning for him to walk with her. He complies.

"We should talk," she says, stating the obvious. It's a moment of bravery, for her, confronting what usually feels impossible to deal with. She's learned this much from Neverland - Emma can't run away from how she feels forever. Her feelings for Killian included.

The problem is figuring out what the hell to do with them now.

"We should," he repeats, sounding a little mystified.

Emma keeps walking until they reach a table in front of Granny's, the twinkle lights on the front of the diner and the streetlamps illuminating the way. She sits at one chair, tugging his hand down until he sits at the one next to it.

They sit in silence, for a brief moment.

"About what happened back there, in Neverland…"

"You'd like to forget it ever happened," he finishes, a tight smile on his lips. "I understand."

Emma's nose wrinkles. "What? No."

"Oh," Killian stands up noticably straighter, then. " _Oh_."

"We should just," she gestures a little blindly between the two of them. "Talk about this. Settle this like...adults. And I...I should be honest with you about some things. But first I just want to know where you stand."

"Where I stand," he repeats, as if in a haze. "What do you mean?"

"Between us…"

"You're asking how I feel about you?"

It's a straightforward way of putting it. "Yeah."

"Then I suppose I should be honest with you, hm?" he suggests slowly, his eyebrows inching upwards.

The way he's responding is making her anxious. "That'd be preferable."

He swallows, hard. Killian seems to steel himself for a moment, biting his lip as he collects his thoughts. "I suppose I don't know how you'd feel about hearing it."

Emma shrugs, trying her best not to let her emotions show. "Whatever they are, I want to know."

There's another brief pause.

"I've been keeping a secret from you, I'm afraid," his smile is a little bittersweet and it just makes her gut twist further.

Emma exhales, a little shakily. "What's your secret?"

He looks up to meet her eyes, gaze steady on her. The light is illuminating the planes of his face, making his eyes look bluer and his jaw that much sharper. His hand slides to clasp over hers on top of the table. "My secret is that I never thought I'd be capable of letting go of my first love, my Milah. To believe I could find someone else. That is…until I met you."

Emma sits there with her jaw agape, for a few moments, unsure of what to do with that information.

He stays there with her, soaks in her silence for a few moments. Eventually, he shakes his head slightly, standing up to leave in a defeated gesture and nearly walking away from her until she stands up to grab at his sleeve.

"What are you-"

Emma cuts him off with a kiss.


End file.
